Do Not Forget What You Are
by Thorkiful
Summary: Becoming a half-vampire was never part of the plan for Darren, growing up. Given the chance to be fostered by an old friend, he takes it eagerly. But will his thirst for blood, or someone, be too much to ignore?
1. Chapter 1

"This is quite comfy, for a bed that hasn't been made in a couple of years", I said surprised, laying back against the pillows

reeking of bleach.

"Hrrmph" was the reply that came from the inside of a polished coffin. Mr Crepsley still couldn't get his head around my

aversion towards coffins. He seems to overlook the fact I was buried alive in one. The bed I currently occupied was a much

better alternative. This abandoned hotel had a ballroom, the perfect premises for Cirque du Freak to perform in. With it's

guest rooms, balconies and a giant kitchen, I defiantly preferred this hotel to a empty field.

The setting sun cast a orange glow into the room. Night was approaching quickly and I curled up under the covers,

savouring the remaining minutes. I heard the wood of the coffin creak and footsteps padded across the carpeted floor. The

duvet was ripped from on top of me.

"Up!", Mr Crepsley snapped, then proceeded into the bathroom to start the shower.

Dragging myself out of bed, I trudged sleepily after him, my pyjama bottoms fraying at the heels. Leaning against the sink, I

brushed my teeth. I had to be careful not the bit down on the brush. Mr Crepsley refused to get me another one this month.

I spat into the basin and heard the shower turn off. Rubbing my hand across the steamed up mirror I stared at my reflection.

My hair had grown quite long and I almost seemed... paler. It had been quite some time since Mr Crepsley and I had feed.

Just as I pushed stray hairs off my forehead, a pair of muscled arms wrapped themselves around me.

"You are so goorgeeouuss Darren", Mr Crepsley joked, fluffing my hair and pecked me on the cheek.

Noticing my solemn expression, he stopped smiling and said seriously,

"Is something wrong?"

"No not really", I assured him with a small smile, "I guess I just never imagined my life like this. My parents had planned for

me to go to college, get a job with a good income and maybe they even looked forward to grandchildren. But here I stand, a

half vampire and- YOU ARE SOAKING WET!".

Twisting out of his grip, I plucked at my now damp t-shirt. Shaking his orange hair, I ducked through the door way to avoid

the onslaught of water pellets.

Now dressed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, Mr Crepsley placed his hand around my wrist and escorted me over to the

bed. Leaning over, he opened the bedside cabinet and took out a pair of scissors. Sitting cross-legged, he pulled me into his

lap. Settling into his embrace, I felt his fingers tug through my hair. Snip. I rubbed my foot against his toes. Snip. Strands of

my hair began to gather on the bedsheets. Snip. I bit back a moan as the blade skimmed the nape of my neck. He blew softly

on my throat and brushed away any stray hairs.

"You look presentable for the performance tonight", he muttered hoarsely. Neither of us moved for a while, just watched the

light fade from the room.

Too soon Mr Crepsley spoke,

"We must head downstairs, if we do not want to be tardy", and moved off the bed with reluctance. I clambered after him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen, safe home and don't forget to stay afraid of the dark." Mr Tall concluded, taking a bow

and leaving the stage as darkness fell over entire room. The audience shuffled in their seats and started to get up.

"Nobody move!", Mr Crepsley ordered, a spotlight blinked to life and shone down on us. I flinched by his side due to

harshness of the glare but Mr Crepsley remained in character.

"My extremely poisonous spider has escaped", he said in a low voice, "She could be anywhere, under the seats, in your bags or on stage".

Hushed voices whispered frantically, and some even crouched on the padded velvet seats. Placing the flute between my lips,

I blew softly, watching Mr Crepsley as he willed Madame Octa to weave through peoples legs. They stifled screams of terror.

One faint hearted lady crumbled to the ground, narrowly missing the spider. My throat was dry and my fingers ached as they

scaled up and down the flute but raw energy pumped through me. The co-dependence involved when we performed

almost made us equals. I couldn't explain it but the feeling of power of him caused something to stir inside me. It was

almost carnal. Before I knew it, Mr Crepsley had guided Madame Octa back inside her cage. Shutting the cage door, he

smiled twistedly at the audience,

"I bid you all a goodni-"

The ballroom doors burst open and police flooded in.

"Bloody hell", Mr Crepsley swore under his breath. The crowd fled in all directions. Getting swept into the mob of bodies, I

could no longer distinguish who was who. My body was pushed from person to person and losing my balance I fell to the

floor. Shoes trampled my limbs and I lashed out at anything that came near. A pair of hands pulled me upright. Twisting

around to flash them a grateful smile, a fist slammed into my stomach and my arms were pinned roughly behind my back.

Clink. The metal of handcuffs bit into my wrists as they were snapped on.

Doubling over in pain, I swore graphically. My cheek stung red from a hard slap I received.

"Shut it punk", an officer shouted in my ear. Recoiling, my eyes darted around wildly for the one person I needed right now.

My relief changed to confusion as I saw he was restrained not by the police, but by Mr Tall.

His normal calm appearance had been replace by a creature in frenzy. Bloodshot eyes were locked upon my body and his

teeth were bared. Mr Tall's arms locked around his shuddering frame.

"DARREN", Mr Crepsley roared.

Wide eyed, I stared desperately back at him as I was dragged through the crowd. Before I realised it I was being ungracefully

shoved into the back of a police car, groaning as my head cracked against the back seat.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke on a hard, grey mattress. The room was bare except for a blocked toilet and metal sink. A cracked mirror was screwed

to the concrete walls above it. Rising to my feet, I bit back a moan as my muscles ached in protest. Catching a glance of my

reflection, I cringed.

My clothes were torn and dusty, my pale skin was spotted with small bruises. A dark purple bruise stretched across my

cheek. Looking away I realised there was a pile of clothing at end of the mattress. I hastily pulled them on. As I stuck my left

leg in the sweatpants, the room around me began to spin and my heartbeat thrummed in my ears.

"Shit", I gasped, sinking to my knees. My throat tightened painfully.

The barred, cell door clanged open, the prison warden stared down at me, then sneered,

"Follow me brat".

Toughen up Darren, I told myself and trudged after the warden.

"Thanks again for the papers", said a man to an officer behind him as he walked out of an interview room. I glanced up from

where I was slouched, peeling away layers of red plastic from the waiting room chair with my hard nails. Facing forward, the

man stopped mid-step at the sight of me. His jaw plummeted.

"Darren?", his voice was thick with disbelief.

My mouth opened, but words had abandoned me. The man in front of me couldn't be, no he simply can't be...

"It's me Darren, Mr Dalton", he said, extinguishing all of my doubt. I didn't have time to dwell on it as I was forcefully hauled

to my feet. Handcuffing my hands in front of me, the officer gripped my shoulder, directing me towards the interview room.

He turned to the receptionist,

"Get me the local orphanages number",

"What's going on?", Mr Dalton inquired, following us in.

I was shoved roughly into a chair, just managing to stop my head slamming onto the metal table.

"It doesn't matter", I grunted, wincing as the metal bit into my raw wrist. I knew from previous experience that Mr Dalton

didn't exactly take kindly to illegal freak shows. If watching one enraged him, I'd rather not let him know I was fully involved

with one. I sunk lower into the seat, bowing my head.

"Mr Shan since you have no legal guardian you are hereby under the care of the state and shall be placed into-"

"I'll take him".

My head jerked upright and I stared up at Mr Dalton with bewilderment.

"Sorry?", I choked, thinking that I had misheard him.

The officer shared my puzzlement.

"Henry I'll foster him. I'll be his legal guardian. I have a spare bedroom and I'll enrol him in the school I currently teach in."

"Well I can't argue with that", the officer replied, shaking his head and then continued,

"It's your choice Darren, moving into an orphanage until you're of age or be fostered by Mr Dalton."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Opening my mouth again, I knew exactly what to say.

"I'll go with Mr. Dalton".


	4. Chapter 4

I stepped out of his car, closing the door carefully behind me. Lines of apartments stretched all across

the block.

Stray rubbish clustered along the path and the outside of the buildings were shabby and worn down.

The inside of his apartment wasn't any different. Thrift shop curtains filtered the setting sun. The pale

wood kitchen counters were cluttered with dented pots and pans, paper plates and a open box of

ceral. The living room consisted of a patched sofa squished in beside a humming fridge. Only one

bedroom door was open. A single bed sat in the middle of the room. The wardrobe was bare, a

lone hanger hung on the metal rail. From the reflection in the wardrobe mirror, I caught sight of Mr

Dalton looking nervous.

"It's not much", he said sheepishly, attempting to straighten the falling pile of shirts on the sofa.

"Better than a jail cell", I smiled.

A wave of dizziness flowed through me and I grabbed the counter edge

for support. Swaying slightly, I gritted my teeth and said weakly,

"Do you mind if I go to bed? I can barely stand".

"Of course. Take the second room", Mr Dalton replied with a tinge of

alarm.

Stumbling into the bare room, I was unconscious just as I hit the sheets.

My eyes flickered open when I heard a door slam. Laying still, I recognised the rustling of paper bags

and the snapping of plastic.

Walking into the kitchen, I frowned at the sight of shopping bags covering the only available surfaces.

Mr Dalton was tugging the price tag of a pair of grey jeans. Noticing me, he smiled embarrassedly.

"I wasn't sure what you were into, or if you had any with you, and since you'll be starting school in a

couple of days",

"You..you bought me clothes?", I mumbled, picking up a soft fitted t-shirt. There was enough here to fill

the entire wardrobe.

"I took the tags off", he warned, "So don't ask me to bring them back".

I smiled genuinely at him and felt of whoosh of warmth spread though

my body.

Brushing my hair off my forehead, I grinned at what I saw. A well built teenager in burnt red skinny

jeans, fashionably worn jumper and a pair of sneakers. Turning around to pick up my back pack, I

caught sight of my old costume on the ground. Wincing guiltily, I looked away.

I strut into the kitchen and gave a twirl. Mr Dalton rolled his eyes and took a sip of coffee. Shaking the

keys he motioned towards the front door. I swung my bag over my shoulder and took a deep breathe.

This is life giving you another chance, don't screw it up Darren.

Pulling into the car park, the car stopped. Mr Dalton faced me.

"Darren, could you meet me in my classroom at lunch?".

"Will do", I said slowly. He said nothing more on the subject. I took that as my cue to get out. A couple

of metres away from the car, I heard the driver window open.

"Good luck", he called.

I'll need it, I thought as I joined the swarm of students heading towards the schools main doors.

Tugging my keys out of my pocket, I stood in front of my new locker and twisted the lock open. Zipping

open my bag to get my books, I heard footsteps approach me. Beefy hands grabbed my neck and my

spine slammed against the cold metal lockers. A broad necked boy with close cut hair towered over me.

"Outta' the way pretty boy", he sneered. His face was an inch away from my nose. Taking a deep

breathe, I forced myself not punch his face in. His breathe was rank and balls of sweat blistered down

his forehead. Rolling my eyes, I stepped away from him and started down the hallway. I sighed in relief.

I had no plans to spend the first day of the school outside the principals office. Thunk. I tripped over

sweaty boy's leg and sprawled to the tiled floor. His cronies' laughter filled the almost empty hallway.

#Blushing, I got to my feet and jogged to my first class just as the bell rang.

The canteen was swiftly over-run with hungry students and as I watched the tables fill with the usual

cliques I was grateful I wouldn't be spending my lunch time sitting alone at a table by the bin. Passing

the canteen, I came to a row of classroom doors. Stopping outside an occupied one, I grabbed the door

handle. Hesitating, I took my hand off. Did I have to obey formalities around Mr Dalton in school? I

softly knocked on the door. He glanced up from his desk and beckoned me in, a smile forming on his

face. Pushing the door open, he rubbed his eyes and pulled a chair over to his desk.

"Have a seat", he offered.

Taking it, I looked curiously at him and asked,

"What's this all about?".

He shuffled uncomfortably, " As you know, I was transferred here a couple of days after the incident

with the illegal freak show", he grimaced as if the words "freak show" tasted sour on his tongue, "I

didn't keep in touch with any old collogues or friends. You could say I started a new life, but the next

moment the boy with reasonable grades and common sense is sitting, beaten up and handcuffed in a

police station. What the hell happened Darren?".

My insides turned sickly and I stared at the carpet. The instant he found out that I was apart of the

cirque he was bound to kick me to the curb. Living a like a normal teenager seemed like a fantasy for so

long and I couldn't bare the thought of losing it all. I let silence fill the minutes that passed by. He

flicked distractedly through the papers that cluttered his desk and I kept my eyes glued to my feet. The

bell sounded in the distance. Mr Dalton cleared his throat.

"You have maths with me next, you might as well find a seat ", he muttered.

Without saying anything, I sunk into a chair at the back of the room and waited in desperation for the

class to start.


	5. Chapter 5

Holding my maths book at an angle in front of me, I silently observed Mr Dalton pacing to and fro at the top of the

classroom, who stopped every minute or so to scrawl equations onto the blackboard. I lost focus of the lesson and let my

thoughts take over. I knew he was disappointed in me for lying to him, but I was certain telling the truth would triple that

feeling. He had willingly taken me under his wing and this was how I repaid him. Why did I always hurt those around me?

"Well Darren?",

His voice pierced through my daydream, pulling me back to surface.

"Sorry?" I squeaked.

"What is your answer?", his voice dripped with annoyance.

My eyes flitted to blackboard and I groaned inwardly as I realised I had no idea what the lesson was about. In a fluster, I

dropped my maths book. With an audible "bang" it fell to the floor. My face reddened at an alarming rate as I bent to pick it

up. A mobile phone escaped from my pocket and landed on the front cover. I frowned at the phone in confusion, I didn't

have a mobile phone. Mr Dalton strolled towards my desk, tutting with each step.

"You know better than to bring a mobile to school Mr Shan. There is a strict no phone rule, no exceptions", he scolded.

"But it's not mine, I don't kno-"

Cutting me off with the slam of his palm against my desk, he continued,

"After school detention will remind you not to text in my class again".

Snapping my mouth shut, I bit back a retort and nodded.

"Sorry", I murmured.

Leaning in close, he whispered so only I could hear,

"An apology isn't what I want".

The hurt in his voice was as obvious as the guilt plastered on my face. The final bell of the day rang and in a mad rush chairs

were scrapped back and bodies hurtled through the classroom door, eager to get home. We both watched as the last,

dwindling student swung close the door behind him. I bolted up from my seat, rage frothing in my veins.

"WHAT do you want then!" I snarled, kicking aside my chair.

"The truth", he shouted, "Or is that too much to ask of you".

Actually it is, I thought. Unfortunately with rage comes irrationality.

"You want the truth", I jeered, unable to contain the words that followed.

"I was apart of a FREAK SHOW", the piece of chalk Mr Dalton held in his hands snapped in two. There was no stopping me

now. "Not any freak show, the exact freak show you hate with all your being. I worked, slept and ate under it's command".

The anger inside me decreased with every word. He never dropped his gaze from my face. "How can you bear to look at

me", I croaked. Awareness hit me like a brick to the head as I realised what I had just confessed. My rage had left my body

and entered Mr Dalton as his muscles stiffened. As shaking hands formed fists, I held my own up in defence, tripping

backwards.

Seeing my fear, his fury drained in seconds.

"Da...arren will you answer the next question truthfully" he pleaded.

"Okay" I answered slowly, my voice becoming raspy as my throat burned uncomfortably.

"Did they abuse you... sexually".

"No", I choked.

His figure became blurred and blood rushed to my head. My legs gave from underneath me and my hands ripped

desperately at my ever tightening throat. I felt Mr Dalton dart forward and catch me before black numbness knocked me

unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

Beep... beep... beep. My eyelids blinked lazily as my senses returned to me. Wires snaked up my forearm and a pulse monitor

was clasped snug on my index finger. The smell of disinfectant burnt my nose with each breathe. Turning to lay on my side,

I noticed someone was sound asleep in a chair next to the hospital bed. Mr Dalton was draped across the chair, his head

nestled in his elbow. I coughed quietly, grinning as he jolted awake. My smile faltered and my shoulders slumped. My brain

kindly gave me a frame by frame playback of what had happened this afternoon. I hoped he would at least let me in his

house for a few minutes to collect what little belongings I had.

"Darren", he gasped and perched at the end of the bed. Redness rimmed his eyes and his voice was hoarse.

"Sir", I said quietly, suspicion creeping up my spine. It's now or never. "I know this is a lot to ask, but if

I could just get my stuff from your place".

"You'll do no such thing", Mr Dalton responded with disbelief.

It was worth a try, I suppose.

"I guess it's goodbye then", I spluttered.

"You're misunderstanding Darren, you can't take your stuff from my place, because I'm not letting you

leave. You've only got one other place to go back to and I'll be damned if I let you go back to that freak

show".

He placed his hand gently on my wrist,

"The doctors just need to take a few tests, then I'll take you home".

I panicked as it dawned on me. I was pretty sure my abnormal blood would spark interest. Men in

white coats would be on my tail in seconds. My body was physically too weak to fight my way out of

this hospital. The thoughts of being restrained onto a steel operating table, I shuddered.

"Please", I begged, "Don't let them examine me". I could hear my heart rate racing in the machine

next to me.

It was Mr Dalton's turn to be suspicious.

"Have something to hide? Bruises, broken ribs maybe?", he grunted,

"I'll discharge you now, test free, if..."

"If?", I echoed desperately.

"You cook dinner for the rest of the week."

"You have a deal". Jerking forward to shake on it, I bit down on my tongue as blood rushed to my head

and black spots clotted my vision.

Mr Dalton reached down and plucked a clipboard from the foot of the bed. With a flourish, he signed his

name.

"I can get a wheelchair to bring you to the car", He said as he regarded my weakened state.

"Don't you dare". I objected and pulled myself out of the bed, landing wobbly on my feet. "Just stay

close to me".

And he did. Keeping to his word, his mouth remained shut even after the fifth time I grabbed his arm for

support.

After being sent to bed the second my foot hit the threshold, I curled up under the duvet, shrugging

away the drowsiness that comes with a five hour nap. I could feel energy slowly seeping back into my

muscles. I couldn't ignore however, the gnawing reminder that if I didn't get human blood soon, I

wouldn't be a hospital bed I would lay in, it just might be a coffin.

Something stronger invaded my mind. A smell had wafted from the living room into my bedroom. The

smell was salty and dry. Breathing in deeply, I smiled as I recognised the buttery snack. Popcorn.

Padding out into the living room in bare feet, I stood hesitatingly at my doorway.

Mr Dalton was sprawled out on the lumpy two seater sofa, his eyes were glued to the TV screen. The

bowl of popcorn was nestled between his knees.

The floorboards squeaked under my weight. Without looking up, he beckoned me over. Perching on the

edge of the sofa, I politely glanced at the screen. I snorted.

"What's so funny about Dracula?", Mr Dalton asked.

I shook my head and squished into the little space left on the sofa, draping my legs over his knees. The

sun set behind the apartment buildings, casting the room into darkness, except for the soft glow

emitted from the TV screen. I could scarcely make out Mr Dalton's silhouette. I edged closer to him, inch

by inch. Leaning across his lap, I stretched out my hand, and my fingers grasped their target. I smirked

as I retreated back across the sofa. Submerging in the bowl, I scooped a fistful of popcorn, and

engulfed it in one mouthful. The salted butter trailed down my throat as my teeth crushed popped

kernel after kernel. The popcorn vanished long before the film ended. Mr Dalton pulled himself up as the

credits began to roll.

"Don't stay up too late, I won't have any napping in my class tomorrow", he kidded, picking the popcorn

bowl off the wooden floorboards.

"Yes, Sir", I teased.

A pillow came flying in my direction.

"Sir my ass, get to bed smart arse."

"Make me."

I heard footsteps, the twist of a tap and cold water hitting a glass.

"Shit I'm sorry. I'm going, I'm going", I spilled as I scampered to my room and jumped onto the bed,

taking refuge under the covers. Victorious laughter came from outside my door, seconds later his

bedroom door closed shut.


	7. Chapter 7

Digging through the pile of worn, second-hand school books, I eventually caught sight of my history book. Fishing it out of

my locker, I slammed the metal door shut and tried not to think about the enormous essay we had been set. Five pages on

the effects of World War I. I died a little inside.

Bracing the oncoming crowd of rowdy students desperate to leave the building, I arrived outside Mr Dalton's classroom

door, rather breathless.

Pushing it open, I strolled inside.

"I'm not going to hang around all day for a lift, James-" I started. A dozen faces turned towards me. Mr Dalton swore under

his breath.

"Darren! I'm sorry, I completely forgot to tell you about the staff meeting", he glanced at his watch, "If you want to hang

around for half an hour or so?".

"It's... okay, I'll walk", I stammered. I felt my face reddening after referring him to his first name, even though he insisted that

I should. I quickly backed out of the room, walked calmly out the main doors and darted across the school grounds.

The grey sky rumbled and rain began to pour viciously from above. I ducked sideways into an alleyway. The dirty brickwork

did very little to shelter me and broken glass cracked under my feet. A blinking street lamp shone dimly about twenty metres

ahead. Pulling my damp hood up, I walked hurriedly through the narrow alley. Cold air rushed down my spine and the hairs

on the back of my neck stood straight. Stopping, I dug my phone out of my pocket, finger inches from the emergency call

button. I heard the tinkle of glass breaking close behind me. Whipping my head around, I squinted into the darkness.

Quickening my pace, I half ran towards the street lamp. My breath was coming out in pants and my pulse beat madly in my

veins. A hand clamped down on my shoulder, halting me. I threw my arms up in front of my face. I felt energy drain from

my body. The ache in my muscles increased with every second that passed. I knew I wasn't making it out of this alley, alive

anyway. I let my arms sink to my side and raised my head to look into my killer's eyes.

"Darren"

He raised the corner of his mouth into a half smile, wrinkling the scar that traced down the side of his face.

"Mr Crepsl-", His name caught in my throat. The phone slipped from my shaking hand. Neither of us looked down.

He took at step forward.

"Come now, let us go. The sun may be gone for the moment but I do not wish to push my luck".

I backed up against the wall.

"I can't", I whispered.

"I don't understand". His confusion was almost as strong as my fear of his reaction as I choked the following,

"I don...n't want to go with you".

His face became expressionless. Backing away from me, he raked his fingers through his orange hair and bowed his head.

"If that is what you want". His voice trembled.

I moved towards him.

"Mr Crepsley...", I begged. The stern look in his eyes cut me off.

Grabbing my wrist, he placed something in my hand. My skin burned pleasurably at his touch. He pulled away instantly.

"Do not forget what you are", He growled and melted into the shadows.

Opening my hand, a glass vial full of blood lay against my palm. With stringing eyes, I flung the vial at the opposite brick

wall. The glass shattered and crimson blood showered down. I threw my fists at the wall, then slumped to my knees, tears

streaming down my cheeks.


	8. Chapter 8

Drumming my fingers on the wooden desk, I waited anxiously as Mr. Church stalked from student to student, collecting our five page homework assignments. The pages that lay in front on me further increased my anxiety. They were rumpled and creased from being shoved into my bag this morning, after I woke at the kitchen table, pen still in hand. The writing was scrawled and from this distance, I couldn't make out half the words.

"Homework", Mr. Church yawned from over my shoulder.

I handed it to him nervously, awaiting the verdict. His pale, watery pupils scanned down my page, his frown becoming more prominent with each line. I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat.

"Disappointing, extremely disappointing", he declared, and moved to his next victim. I raised my hand.

"What is it?", he asked, peering down at me.

"Can I go to the bathroom", I pleaded. I was beginning to feel light-headed and the stuffiness of this classroom did nothing to aid it.

My apparent paleness won him over.

"If you must", he sighed and turned to continue reprimanding the unfortunate student two desks ahead of me.

I stood in front of the grungy mirror. My knuckles gripped tightly around the edge of the metal sinks. I reluctantly began to examine myself. My skin was at least six shades paler than normal, contrasting with the shallow, dark circles that rimmed my eyes. Each strained breathe hurt my lungs. Sighing, I thought to myself, I may as well piss well I'm here.

Heading to the nearest stall, I closed the door behind me. BANG. I didn't even lock the door before it was yanked open from the other side. The sweaty boy, who I now knew went by the name of Steven, pushed me to the floor. Grabbing my neck, he spat in my face.

"You look thirsty Shanny, take a drink", he sneered, guiding my face towards the toilet bowl. I lashed out weakly, only encouraging him further. My cheek pressed against the cold toilet and I twisted onto my back and blindly reached out. My hands closed around his face. Clutching his greasy hair, my eyes laid upon his pulsing neck. My muscles stiffened and my mouth gaped open. Straining forward, my teeth pierced his beefy flesh. My back arched and I my moan was gurgled as hot blood surged down my raw throat. Raising my body to deepen the wound, my foot slipped on a puddle of water. I slumped to the ground, the contact broken. Staring in horror at the slowly rising and falling lump next to me, I sat hunched in the corner of the stall, sweat beading up on my skin. His wet, sticky blood dripped down my chin, staining my collar. I gurgled in sick relief as I saw the blood began to clot in his neck, stemming the flow. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I opened the contacts. I pressed my bloody thumb down on the call button on a new contact listed under the name "L.C". Shuddering in disgust at the reflection of myself in the rippling puddle, I listened as the call connected. The caller at the other end of the line picked up. Pressing the phone to my ear, I took a deep breathe. "Mr Crepsley?" I whispered, my voice quaking. They hung up. Scrambling up, I exited the stall, wiping my mouth with my sleeve, avoiding looking at the mirror. I walked out and deposited the phone in the nearest bin along the corridor and kept walking.

"Where do you think you're going?". I swivelled around. Mr Dalton stood outside his classroom. Shit. His eyes widened in shock when he noticed the fresh blood on my shirt collar.

"Darren, what happened?", he demanded, his concerned tone only deepened my guilt. Not now. Not here. Please. I knew my options. Face the confrontation or run. Who am I kidding. I legged full speed down the corridor. He tore after me. Unsurprisingly we received quite a few stares and jeerings.

"DARREN SHAN STOP RIGHT NOW.", Mr Dalton roared after closely avoiding a collision with the school secretary. I didn't turn around. Because if I did, I would do as he said. I wanted to stop. The urge to stop running clouded my entire mind. I wanted to sit in plastic chairs in mundane classes. I wanted to cook him dinner and spend long nights watching movies next to him on the sofa. But one small slip, and it would be his unconscious body that would lay under me, piercing his neck and watching in hunger as blood oozed out of the wounds. Bursting through the main doors, I heard howls of encouragement from rowdy students. I skidded along the pavement as I swerved to my right, my soles beat rhythmically off the gravelled road. An oncoming car slammed the breaks a metre in front of me. Seconds too late. Without breaking my stride, I leaped upwards, landing on the hood of the car, pushing upwards I scaled the roof of the car and vaulted off the boot. I full out sprinted the whole way to Mr Dalton's apartment. There was one thing I had to get before I went. I had left it under my pillow after writing down the latest entry.

Twisting the doorknob, I pulled my bedroom door open and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet. The sun had disappeared, throwing my room into near blackness. Climbing onto the bed, I lifted up my pillow and reached out for my diary. My fingers closed around air. Brushing the pillows aside, I began to frantically search for it. Scrambling over the edge, I trailed my hands along the floor. Nothing. A cold wind crawled up my legs. I realised my window was open. That was weird, I'm positive I closed it last night. Getting up off the floor, I slammed it down shut.

"Is this what you're looking for?", a deep voice said casually.

I turned slowly, facing the direction of the voice. Discreetly, I leant sideways, feeling for the light switch. My finger brushed over it and with a snap, the room flooded with light.

I froze as the figure clothed in dark red came into focus. Mr Crepsley was sitting on my dresser, the diary resting in his hands. He leafed through the pages. I stood motionless.

"Do not worry", he said softly, "I cannot read".

Chewing on my lip and staring at the floorboards, I whispered,

"I'm so sorry".

Mr Crepsley grunted disbelievingly, turning my diary absent-mindedly around in his hands. I threw my hands up in desperation.

"Take me back", I pleaded. He raised an eyebrow. "Please".

Placing my diary to the side, he gracefully jumped down.

"The thing is, I have gotten used to the solitude, I am not sure I want an assistant any more", he sneered, staring down at me.

"Why are you here then", I cried. I wanted to scream in frustration, attack him, if only to make him feel even a ounce of the pain he causes me.

"YOU called me", he snapped.

"You were the one to put the number in my phone!"

He hesitated, only for a second, but I saw his composure slip.

"Well yes, I guess I did", he muttered uncomfortably.

"Larten", I croaked.

Blinking, I was suddenly pressed up against the wall, his body closed all escape possibilities.

"Do you know how many sleepless days I suffered through", he snarled, "thinking about you".

That broke my last shred of resistance. Locking my arms around his torso, I lay my face against his chest. His heartbeat thrummed rapidly upon my cheek. Threading my fingers through his, I pulled him over to the bed. Pushing him down, I crawled on top of him. I plucked at the top button of his shirt.

"Darren", he gasped, torn between pushing me off and tugging me closer.

"Sir?", I purred.

He pulled his fingers through my hair, drawing me closer. Snapping open the last button, I nudged his shirt aside. I lowered my mouth, my lips came into contact with his hot, quickly rising, chest. I kissed it softly, the kisses trailing up to his neck. I broke away, glancing at his face, I saw him give out a quiet moan. Shifting my weight, I lay my stomach against his chest. Lowering my face, my mouth was an inch away from his. He opened one eye and seeing my hesitation, he sat up. Placing a hand on either side of my face, he stared deeply into my eyes and pressed his soft lips against mine. Nudging my mouth open, he increased the pressure and tempo of the kiss. Shoving my body backwards, he fell on top of me. We didn't break apart. Instinctively, my lower body began to grind against his. He responded eagerly.

"Swear to me, swear your loyalty", he growled, rubbing his head against my thigh.

Raising my hand, I made a small nick on my palm with my nail.

"Darren you need not-",

I pressed it against his chest.

"I swear my loyalty to you. I will do whatever you ask of me in return for one thing".

He sat forward expectantly.

"Don't leave me behind".

He nodded and I curled up in his embrace. Stroking my hair lightly, he held me closely as the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled.


End file.
